Breakfast Addiction

During college I quit eating breakfast.

Oh, I'd have the occasional Pop-Tart, and I consumed plenty of burnable energy via calorie-rich mochas. But I pretty much eliminated the most important meal of the day. When my bagel and orange juice-addicted friends tried to force breakfast upon me, I claimed I wasn't hungry in the morning (and this was true). I relished the few minutes my anti-breakfast clause saved me before 8 a.m. classes. And when I was battling the freshman 15, skipping a meal seemed like a reasonable idea.

Two years ago, something changed. It started with my friend Heidi. A breakfast-addict, Heidi suggested we meet once a week for bagels. Later, my friend Krishana had the same idea. Suddenly I was eating breakfast twice a week. You may or may not know this...but once you start eating breakfast, it's hard to stop. I noticed that I was hungry on the mornings when I did not meet my friends. I started eating a bowl of cereal at home or getting eggs and toast at the cafeteria.

Not only was I now eating breakfast on a regular basis; I was thinking about how I could eat MORE breakfast. When friends would ask to get together, I would suggest, "How about breakfast?" I plotted to schedule Saturday morning breakfast — the king of breakfasts — most weeks. Pleasant thoughts of chatting over a plate of golden french toast and unlimited coffee refills would fill my mind. Or worse, for dinner, I'd suggest going to one of those "breakfast all day" places, just so I could feed my addiction. Even at home, I kept eggs on hand. And sometimes when I got home from work, I would make a hole-in-one or a breakfast burrito.

Years of breakfast deprivation had brought me to this sad state. But I discovered something through my breakfast addiction; it really IS the most important meal of the day. After reinstating breakfast, I felt better, got more done and lost weight. I also discovered some of my favorite foods are breakfast foods. This weekend I will be home with my family. A Hadley tradition is eggs for breakfast on Saturday morning. Dad makes a mean omlette. So maybe it's in my blood; I was born a breakfast eater.